


how they perceive you

by Sanna_Black_Slytherin



Series: The Other 51 [24]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton is George Washington's Biological Son, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - John Laurens Lives, Angst, Canon Era, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Martha Washington Deserves Nice Things, Multi, Politics, President Hamilton, Rumours, Washingmom, he dies sorry, the major character death tag is for Gwash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanna_Black_Slytherin/pseuds/Sanna_Black_Slytherin
Summary: Logically, Hamilton knew that Washington was not invincible. That he was mortal, fallible, just like the rest of them. Hamilton also knew that no man (or woman – he winced at the memory of his mother) could live forever. Washington was old, weak, and frail. It was only a matter of time before he departed this world.Logically,Hamilton understood that.aka, the one where everyone finds out Hamilton's a Washington.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There's like a thirty-minute car drive from DC to Mount Vernon, but shhhh. I also know that air quotes weren't a thing back in the 19th century, but let me indulge.
> 
> Also, I found stars to put between scenes and they are _just so adorable_

Logically, Hamilton knew that Washington was not invincible. That he was mortal, fallible, just like the rest of them. Hamilton also knew that no man (or woman – he winced at the memory of his mother) could live forever. Washington was old, weak, and frail. It was only a matter of time before he departed this world.

 _Logically_ , Hamilton understood that.

Knowing it theoretically and being forced to accept it, however, were separate things, one not necessarily equalling the other.

Hamilton had been working on a way to expand America beyond the sixteen colonies, a way that could set another precedent for the usage of implied executive power, when Eliza came in with a missive. Her eyes were hard, like they tended to get when she tried to be strong for him but could not quite master her emotions. “Alexander,” se began in a tone carefully devoid of emotion, “there's a letter for you from Lady Washington.”

Alexander shivered. The last time she had used those words, he received news that lead him to believe that his dear Laurens had been killed in a gunfight. Fortunately, that misunderstanding had been cleared up a few months later when John and Francis Laurens showed up at their doorstep. It was the first and only time Eliza had seen him cry.

Alexander thought that he could guess at the contents of Martha Washington's letter. He somehow doubted that this one could be resolved as easily as the exaggerated reports of John Laurens' demise.

Alexander wordlessly held out a hand, and Eliza handed him the letter. He forced himself to read it. He skimmed through it at first, then went back and reread it, absorbing every word. When he finished, he looked up at Eliza who stood there passively. “George Washington is dead,” he said slowly, tasting the words as though they were a foreign dish. “My father is dead,” he repeated.

Eliza took the letter from Alexander and skimmed through it again. She squeezed his hand. “General Washington's will is to be read in just over a fortnight,” she murmured quietly. “She requests that you come alone.”

Alexander looked at her. “Meaning I have almost exactly two weeks left before people begin to question the legitimacy of my presidency – indeed, of any deed I have ever accomplished. They will accuse my father of nepotism, despite the fact that I have never known a man less inclined to indulge in such moral depravities,” he sighed. “The death of the first president of our nation so soon after my inauguration is a bad omen, and people _will_ point it out as such,” he said pessimistically.

Eliza cupped his cheeks in her hands. She forced him to look her in the eye. “You are being far too pessimistic for my tastes, Alexander,” she murmured. “It is not a bad omen at all. Time simply took its toll on your father, as it will inevitably take its toll on us all. It was unavoidable.”

Alexander grimaced; he did not look reassured.

“Well,” Eliza said reasonably, “you are more than twice obliged to make a trip to Virginia. General Washington was your friend, your mentor, and your father. As his former right-hand man and the President of the United States, you need to attend his funeral.”

“I am not planning not to,” Alexander objected.

Eliza quirked an eyebrow. “Do not lie to me, Alexander. I know you better, I suspect, than you know yourself. I am aware of what goes on in that magnificent mind of yours. Besides, _somebody_ has to keep you in check during John's New York absence.”

Alexander pecked Eliza's cheek. “Very well. Lady Washington will probably want a private funeral, as her letter did not mention inviting guests other than myself.”

“A family affair,” Eliza confirmed. “Then there is the reading of Washington's will. It will no doubt be a public event, drawing lots of attention from the press. Jefferson will, in all probability make an appearance, so do try not to cause a national incident,” she warned.

Alexander snickered. “If I know the Washingtons at all, they will surely have found a way to ban Jefferson from the proceedings entirely.”

Eliza grinned in reply. “This, my dear husband, is why Martha has always been the ideal woman to me.”

Alexander leaned in to plant another kiss, this one on Eliza's lips. She leaned into it, making appreciative noises. When they came up for air, Alexander leaned their foreheads together, noting, not for the first time, with dismay that Eliza was just slightly taller than he himself was. (He would be lying if he denied that it made him feel just that little bit jealous.) “I have rather been of the opinion that you are the best of women, my Betsey,” he gibed.

Eliza hit him teasingly. “Flattery will get you _everywhere_ , Alexander Hamilton.”

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A scant day later, Alexander showed up in Mount Vernon, just in time for the funeral. Lady Washington told him that, so far, only the two of them – plus the doctor, of course – were aware that George Washington had passed away. This was, she explained, so that they would not have to fend off the crowds that would inexorably try to force their way into Washington's funeral, had this become public knowledge. Her husband had always wanted a private ceremony, Martha said, only attended by family. No pomp, no fanfare, just his beloved family. In Martha's opinion, that meant his wife and his son, the two people who knew him best.

Martha also explained the need for him to have made the trip to Virginia alone. Not wanting to attract attention, Martha had requested that Alexander should attend this funeral alone. After all, it was not unusual for him to travel to Virginia in order to socialize with the Washingtons, but if his entire family had accompanied him, it would have raised questions that Martha as in neither the state nor the mood to answer.

The funeral took place three days after Washington's death. The man himself had requested this long wait, being terrified of being buried alive.

Martha cried at the funeral. Alexander did not, though not because he did not care about his deceased father but because his tears had already been beyond exhausted during his mourning for John. Eliza did not know, of course, since he locked himself in his office, seeing no point in burdening her with the sheer strength of his emotions. She knew of his engagement with John, and the fact that his feelings for John went quite beyond mere friendship, but she did not realize just how far these feelings went, and Alexander felt that it was not a good moment to enlighten her.

After the funeral, Martha composed, with Alexander's unrequested but not unwelcome help, an announcement about the demise of her husband, being careful to phrase it in a way as to make it clear that she meant no offense in not inviting anyone. 'Closed funeral', she wrote, 'attended by his closest family only'. She then announced that there would be a reading of the general's will in just under two weeks.

Alexander, for his part, wrote to Lafayette. He was uncertain as to the speed with which rumours travelled, but he was positive that it would be infinitely better for his friend to hear the news directly from Alexander than if he picked it up in the Parisian gossip. Washington was like an adopted father to Lafayette, and Alexander knew that Washington likewise had paternal feelings towards the young Frenchman.

Alexander also penned a letter to John, because, like Lafayette, Alexander did not want John to find out that Washington had died from a newspaper.

Finally, he composed a letter to Burr, warning him that the matter which they discussed at length right after he agreed to be his running mate in the past election would soon become public knowledge. He figured that Burr will be furious enough with him for bringing about this chaos without also feeling insulted that he was not informed beforehand, never mind the fact that Alexander had opposed Washington's idea of naming him heir and revealing their relation.

Over the course of the next twelve days, numerous important people showed up to express their condolences, and, of course, to listen to the reading of Washington's will. Alexander greeted as many as he could, deflecting the attention from Martha whenever it looked like she became overwhelmed.

He pointedly avoided John Adams, though he did converse with his wife, Abigail. Although he always found her political opinions to be quite different from his, the fact that she was his intellectual equal provided enjoyable conversation, as did the fact that she was willing to elaborate and debate her viewpoints without resorting to obnoxious condensation as was Jefferson's style. Abigail was also decisive and did not shy away from her responsibilities, which was a trait Alexander admired immensely.

Alexander frankly found it unbelievable that such a remarkable woman settled on such a coward as John Adams. In fact, Abigail Adams was, by far, more suitable for the presidency than her husband, who, in Alexander's vocal opinion, should not have been in charge of anything more important than a tea party (and not even that, if said tea party happened to be taking place in Boston).

It came as a small surprise when James Madison showed up, but, although Alexander and Martha glared at him throughout the visit, neither of them asked him to leave.

Jefferson, meanwhile, did not deign to show up, and everyone was much better off for it, really. Even Madison seemed to be enjoying time off from his clandestine cicisbeo. Though Alexander could safely say that he despised both men, he would choose Madison over Jefferson any time.

Washington's will was to be read on March 26th, 1801. Alexander knew that it would mark a new chapter in his life, private as well as public. Depending on how he would deal with the consequences of this revelation, it would either elevate his career to new heights, or sink it beyond the reach of even the most accomplished of divers.

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“… My slaves shall go to my wife to do with as she sees fit. Upon her death, they shall all be freed, and the ones either too young or too old to be able to support themselves shall be provided with economic help,” the family lawyer droned on. Alexander absentmindedly thought that he had, at some point, taken lessons from Seabury to sound as dull as possible. “As for my estate as well as everything not explicitly otherwise, they shall go to my son and heir, Alexander Hamilton.”

Quicker than lightning, all heads in the room turned to look at Alexander, and their eyes stared at him judgmentally as silence permeated the room. Then whispers broke out. People began to mutter furiously to each other. Some began to scribble something down on pieces of parchment, having brought writing utensils to the reading in the hopes of catching something of interest. These people had just received the story of the year, free of charge. It would become a sensation within a week, Alexander estimated.

Alexander tensed up. Notwithstanding the fact that hew knew that this was coming, sooner rather than later, having been present at the creation of said will, he was still in no way prepared to face the press and the inquiries and the speculations and oh God the rumours and the way both their reputation would be tarnished and–

Martha placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him in the moment before he could become trapped in his own mind by his own fears.

Robert Troup stood up and approached Alexander. “Is it true, Mr President?” he inquired politely.

Alexander steeled himself for the inevitable reaction. He nodded once. “If you refer to General Washington's claim of being my father, then yes, 'tis true.”

James Cheetham grinned, his mind no doubt already creating headlines that would catch the attention of the nation. “You are Washington's bastard, then?” he jeered. “I long suspected that there must have existed a reason why Washington promoted you to Treasury Secretary, since it obviously was not based on any of your few merits. I had entertained the idea that you were there to indulge certain desires of his,” Cheetham said with enough malice to last any one person a month, “but it turns out that it was simply a case of nepotism.”

Alexander bristled, a biting retort on the tip of his tongue. Seeing this, Martha abruptly stood up and clapped her hands. “That is all, I am afraid. Thank you for attending. Lydia will see you out now. Oh, and Mr Cheetham?” she called out to the journalist, who turned eagerly. “Henceforth, you may consider yourself a _persona non grata_ at this estate.”

Cheetham smiled acerbically. “I believe that it is Mr Hamilton's – or is it Mr Washington's now? – decision to make, ma'am.”

Martha repeated to herself that proper ladies ought to avoid kicking influential men in the crotch, no matter how much they deserved it. “I somehow doubt that Alexander would disagree with me on this,” she replied sweetly.

Cheetham glared at Martha before storming out. James Madison gave Alexander a searching glance as he left.

Once everybody had left, Martha embraced Alexander. He stiffened at first, but soon relaxed into her embrace. “I will not insult either of us by asking you how you are feeling, young one,” she began. “I myself feel as though my stomach had mysteriously turned to lead, and I imagine that you feel much the same, but I must ask that you ask for help from dear Eliza and Mr Laurens when you feel overwhelmed by this whole affair,” she said firmly, still holding Alexander in place.

Alexander sighed with resignation. “I promise that I will try.”

Martha nodded, knowing that it was all she could ask Alexander.

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The next day, newspapers, national as well as state-specific, all featured the sensational story of Alexander's parentage in some form. Alexander grimaced as he read some particularly vicious accusations composed by the _Argus_ chief editor. His frown became more pronounced when he remembered that he had to return to the capitol, since he refused to be another absentee president like John Adams was.

Consequently, Alexander returned to D.C. the following morning, having travelled throughout the night. He had several important meetings he could not bear to miss, and he honestly shuddered to think of the sheer workload that he had missed during his visit in Virginia.

He ignored the pointed stares directed his way, the rude looks people gave him whenever they thought he wasn't looking, the way they pointed and whispered and spread rumours, and honestly, this was the one part of working in the executive branch that he did not enjoy; this, dare he say, witch hunt for any faults a public person might have. The more influential a person, the more faults had to be found – or, failing that, invented.

Alexander stopped by the White House to ascertain everyone's moods. Frances and Philip had been composing some sort of music while Angie, ever the avid reader, was engrossed on yet another book. John C and James were bent over something or other – probably a project John had given them to alleviate their excessive energy. Eliza was gurgling happy as she played with a doll, while William and Al decided that they would make a list of pet names, should Eliza ever allow them to adopt a dog.

Frankly, it was a miracle that John and Frances had been able to live with Alexander and Eliza's family in the White House. The official story was that John had moved in with them temporarily after he resurfaced in '83 but quickly saw that Frances benefitted much from the presence of other children, and that Alexander, Eliza, and John eventually came to the conclusion that it was a good arrangement. Alexander privately thought that the only reason why nobody suspected John of being involved with Eliza – or worse, _Alexander_ – was that, had this been the case, they would not be so open about their arrangement. People did not see the forest for the trees, but Alexander would plant as many trees as was necessary in order to keep his family safe.

John had returned from New York, where he had been heavily involved in the manumission society's annual caucus. Making sure that they were alone, Alexander proceeded to kiss John breathless, watching in satisfaction as John's pupils widened. John smiled when Alexander finally pulled away. “Hello to you too, dear Hamilton,” he said in a teasing voice, then grew somber. “I thank you for your letter. I came as soon as I could. I offer my most sincere condolences. I may have considered the General my friend, but he was your _father_.”

Alexander closed his eyes. Leaning his head against John's chest, he let out a breath. “I love you, John. You know that, right?” he looked up at John. “I love you _so much_.”

John nuzzled his neck. “I know, Alexander, and I love you too.”

A voice had them jump apart. “Did you start without me?” as one, the two men turned to look at Eliza, who stood in the doorway.

Alexander grinned. “We would never, dear Betsey,” he denied.

“Uh-huh,” Eliza did not sound convinced, but neither was she angry, so Alexander counted it as a victory. She approached the two men, put one of her arms around John's waist, the other around Alexander's, and drew in Alexander for a kiss. “It is good that you are back. I missed you. John has been obnoxious during your absence.”

“I have _not_ ,” John objected but was silenced with another kiss from Alexander. He made indignant sounds into the kiss but did not pull back.

Satisfied, Alexander drew back, grinning at John. Eliza, who had been observing the proceedings with a wide smile, pecked John. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” she then faced Alexander. “I gather, then, that the will has been read?”

Alexander nodded. “My relation to General Washington is now a matter of public knowledge, as you well know,” he gestured to the newspapers littering the table.

“How is Lady Washington dealing with her husband's death?” John asked.

Alexander grimaced. “Remarkably well, although I do not think she has had time to truly process it yet.”

“Or maybe she has been expecting it for such a long time now that she became used to it?” John suggested.

Alexander shook his head. “No matter how well one knows in one's mind that someone dear to them is near death, it is impossible to prepare for it,” he said decisively. He sounded like he was talking from personal experiences.

Eliza hummed as she contemplated something. She snapped her fingers. “I am going to invite her to spend a few months with us. She should not be alone in an empty house that, in all probability, reminds her of her husband. Here, there is always someone, so she would not be alone. Besides, I know for a fact that she completely and utterly adores Angie, and loves to dote on her. It would be good for the both of them. What do you think?” she finally addressed Alexander and John.

Alexander inclined his head. “Your wish is my command, milady.”

John smiled. “I think it's an amazing idea.”

“My ideas are always amazing,” Eliza teased.

Alexander and John exchanged glances, nodding in unison. “That they are,” Alexander admitted.

“So,” John looked at Alexander, “I presume that you are going to bury yourself in work to forget?”

Alexander shrugged nonchalantly. “You know me – work is my addiction.”

“I would not say that it is healthy, because I have seen first hand that it is not the case,” Eliza frowned, “but I suppose that it is better than drowning your sorrows in alcohol or adultery,” John coughed pointedly, and Eliza waved him off. “You do not count. You are practically married to us anyway.”

John's corresponding smile lit up the room.

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Just as John predicted, Alexander ignored the rumours the only way he knew how to: by throwing himself headfirst into work, even taking on extra work if he ran out of things to do. This proved to be an effective strategy for distracting himself, if ineffective in actually dispersing the rumours.

It was interrupted the morning after his arrival back in the capitol by none other than James Madison, congressman, politician, and Jefferson's lapdog (or lover, if the rumours were to be believed, but since Alexander started most of them himself mostly to get revenge for how they tried to use his relationship with John against him, he did not put much stock in said rumours).

Madison knocked on the door, then saw himself in before Alexander could send him away. “Good morning, Hamilton,” he said. “How was your holiday? I do hope that you do not make a habit of it. God knows we have had enough of a president who was always absent,” he mused.

Alexander groaned. “Morning, Madison. 'Good' is debatable, but I believe that you already know that, and the reason why.”

“'Tis a bad omen, your father's death merely days after your inauguration,” Madison said lightly, sitting primly yet visibly comfortably in the chair opposite Alexander.

Alexander scowled. “Did Jefferson send you again?” he demanded. “What do they call him these days? 'The philosopher of Monticello'?” he scoffed in derision.

Madison frowned. “I came because I was concerned for you.”

Alexander snorted. “Right,” he said disbelievingly. “And I will support the French Revolution.”

Madison went on as though Alexander had not spoken. “Your reputation, as well as that of Washington's, is currently being tarnished by the press. The leader of that enterprise is someone with whom I believe you are acquainted: an illustrous gentleman by the name of James Cheetham.”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I _don't_ know,” he groused.

Madison grimaced. “On the bright side, at least it is not Callender,” Alexander and Madison both shuddered at the mere mention of the despicable name.

Alexander scowled. “I told him outright that it was a spectacularly bad idea to acknowledge me, for it undermines everything I have ever accomplished–“

Madison raised a hand to cut Alexander off before he could truly start ranting. “If it helps,” he said, “I do not put any stock in the rumours about nepotism concerning you and Washington. I have seen you write for well over three days straight without taking a break for anything less than another British invasion. I have heard you argue for hours about things you believe in, and you do it _well_ , and _no_ , I am not going to repeat that compliment and am going to deny ever giving it if you tell anyone. I know that your mind is the reason why you are where you are,” he stopped for breath, controlling his breathing. Alexander was always vaguely concerned whenever he saw Madison that the man would collapse on his floor. The man was like the Union before _The Federalist Papers_ : he had a weak constitution. “I suppose that what I am trying to tell you is that I support you. I am even willing to testify in your favour,” he offered.

Alexander narrowed his eyes. “What do you have to gain by this support in me?” he asked suspiciously.

Madison scowled. “Is it so hard to believe that I am actually a decent person?” he asked rhetorically.

Alexander replied anyway. “Yes,” he retorted sharply.

“Fine,” Madison snorted. “I do not want my reputation tarnished once the press does realize that you have been right all along. I do not want to be seen as nothing but a petty politician who will do anything to destroy his enemies, even go so far as to make things up. In simple terms, Hamilton, I stand very little to gain from attempting to ruin your reputation, which always seems to recover anyway, given enough time. Yes, I could try to discredit you and elevate my own party, but the chances of that particular enterprise succeeding in the long term are incredibly low.”

“And what is Jefferson's stance on this?” Alexander asked at length.

Madison rolled his eyes. “I managed to convince him that active warfare against you would be detrimental to his career, but he seems just that bit too peeved about the whole Sally Hemings scandal you so thoughtlessly published–“

“On the contrary, Madison, I gave more consideration to its publication than to anything I have written before,” Alexander interrupted.

“–that he declared that he will be sitting this one out,” Madison finished as though Alexander had not spoken.

Alexander huffed. How very _Jefferson_. Truly, he felt nothing but unadulterated loathing for the man. “If this is all, Madison, I do have work to do.”

Madison laughed. “You _always_ have work to do. But no, this is not the only reason I came here. I wanted to inform you about the rumours, since it seems that you prefer to stick your head in the sand rather than listen to what is being said about you.”

Alexander raised a challenging eyebrow. “Then by all means, enlighten me, Madison.”

Madison shrugged again. “They say that you only got where you are because of Washington, because of nepotism and favouritism; that you have only risen so far up by virtue of being Washington's son. Some believe that they would have done a better job as Treasury Secretary, and _no_ , Hamilton, I am not here to argue about the usefulness of your debt plan and banks and initiatives to promote manufacturing.” He took a deep breath. “ _Some_ people also say that you and Washington all along wanted to set the presidency as an inheritance. Remember the form of government you suggested at the Constitutional Convention? Which, now that I think about it, is suspicious because you must have known, at that point, that you were Washington's son, and that he was, by far, the most likely person to be elected president, but I digress,” he mused.

“The form of government you originally put forth somehow got out, and now people are using it to form arguments about how, even if you did get where you are on your own merits, this is setting a bad precedent. Something along the lines of 'We just got rid of one monarch, why should we elect another?'” Madison made air quotes.

“'It somehow got out'?” Alexander eyed Madison skeptically.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Madison scoffed. “If I was truly against you, I would not be telling you this. “What makes this matter worse is that you do not exactly lack children to inherit the presidency after you, especially your oldest – Philip, is it? – who is so similar to you that I fear for this country, should he take an interest on politics,” he mocked. “On the other hand, a little bird also told me that your popularity has been subject to a remarkable rise among the Federalists. They flock to the person they perceive as the natural heir and successor to their preferred president, being attracted to the concept of impartial leadership like Washington's. With this revelation, you have basically secured yourself the next Federalist presidential nomination – provided, of course, that you refrain from doing anything too stupid, but since that is hardly going to happen, who knows?” he smirked.

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Yes, I have erred, but then again, who has not? I am only human. At least I admit to my mistakes and work tirelessly to make up for them. Jefferson, on the other hand, does nothing to make up for his numerous sins, so shouldn't they attack him.

“Thomas' affair with Sally suddenly became much less interesting now that you provided people with new entertainment. Thomas says to thank you for that, by the way,” Madison responded, smiling acidly.

“Tell Jefferson to go to hell.”

“He said you would say that, and to reply that, and I quote, 'I have been to hell, but they kicked me out.”

“How charming of my favourite pseudo-philosopher,” Alexander's mouth twisted into the caricature of a smile.

Madison contemplated Alexander for a moment. “You should publish that as a pamphlet,” he eventually said. “It might alleviate some of people's most pressing concerns. I am not saying that it _will_ , only that it _might_ ,” he hurried to add.

Alexander snorted. “Thank you, Madison, for that vague and utterly unhelpful piece of advice.”

Madison shrugged. He seemed to do that a lot today. “It is your life. I cannot tell you what to do with it. Now,” he stood up, “I believe that the both of us have work to do.”

“Indeed,” Alexander rose in order to escort Madison out of his office. “You have given me a lot to think about.”

Madison snorted. “I should hope so.”

Madison was almost at the door when Alexander called out, “And Madison?” Madison turned to look one last time at Alexander. “Thank you.”

Madison acknowledged him, then turned and left.

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Madison began to drop by with updates on how the affair was proceeding. The people did not calm down as time went by, but then again, Alexander did not expect them to.

Alexander eventually decided to follow Madison's advice and publish a pamphlet, heavily edited by both John and Burr to ascertain that it would not cause any subsequent scandals, that would explain why the information had been withheld and how Alexander had gotten where he was.

Furthermore, in order to increase his popularity with the Democratic-Republicans, Alexander decided to take advantage of the fact that the government had a lot of financial surplus, and, at Pickney's urging, decided to purchase territory to the west of their newborn country, to create new states, and to expand their Union. After all, the more, the merrier, was that not the saying?

Of course, Alexander made sure to include a clause in the Louisiana Purchase, as people had taken to calling it, that stated that they could not vote until ten years after they formally joined the Union, which meant that the Southern population rise would not mess with his chances at re-election. He was not stupid enough to ruin his own career.¹

The Louisiana Purchase had the desired effect: he gained the cautious approval of the more moderate Republicans while not losing his standing with the Federalists as a result of his ten year plan.

And so, at the next election, his competition (coincidentally, Jefferson and Madison) did not stand a chance. Alexander would have pitied them, but he had endured so much shit from Jefferson that he honestly did not give a single damn.

**Author's Note:**

> ¹ Except he totally was.
> 
> Fun fact: In ancient Greek culture, "men were expected to cry if their family's honor was at stake." One of the greatest signs of true manliness was to shed tears. As recently as the 19th century, male tears were actually celebrated as a sign of honesty, integrity and strength. And not in the "you're brave enough to show your weakness" way, but just as a symbol that you actually gave a crap. And it probably also meant you were confident that no one would mock you, since you had just won a battle or torn the limbs off of a monster with your bare hands.


End file.
